


The Heartaches Come and They Go

by FaultlessFinish, shrack



Series: Knowing Me, Knowing You (aka the Wrightiverse) [3]
Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: AU, Canonical Character Death, Each Chapter is a separate story, and don't listen anymore, because i definitely don't wanna be held responsible for whatever he's up to these days, probably easiest to think of this Glenn as an OC who's loosely based on the dndads guy, some pre-canon some post, specific CWs will appear in beginning notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22458880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaultlessFinish/pseuds/FaultlessFinish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrack/pseuds/shrack
Summary: Here's where we'll put all the Wrightiverse/Glenn and Robin stuff that isn't part of the main fics. AUs! One shots! Whatever!
Series: Knowing Me, Knowing You (aka the Wrightiverse) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616062
Comments: 25
Kudos: 57





	1. The Neighbor (Robin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be clear: this is NOT what happens. This is what would happen if the dads didn't fix the mummy situation, and obviously they're going to fix the mummy situation, so don't even worry about it. It's a preventable timeline. Oh, God.

_“Bye, hurry back, it’s boring without you.”_

_“You’re damn right it is. I’m a delight to be around.”_

He’s glad he remembers. The rest of the conversation is a bit of a blur - it was so early in the morning that it was almost the middle of the night, and he was still half asleep, and he didn’t know it was important. It was something about Star Wars that made him laugh, and something about Nick, and he didn’t know he should be paying attention. He didn’t know it was the last time. 

At first he’d thought that despite his best efforts, Glenn had spooked at something and bolted, taken advantage of the soccer tournament to put some space between them. Then Connor had said that Nick wasn’t answering his phone either, and they started to worry, and then the police showed up to look through the apartment next door and nothing was the same after that. 

Robin answers the same questions over and over, first at the scene and later at the police station. Glenn had said they were almost back to the boys, and it was all okay. He sounded fine, happy even. He said Nick wasn’t with him. I don’t know where he was calling from. I don’t know what happened. 

They don’t tell him much in return, he’s not family and they don’t want to reveal details of an open investigation to a neighbor. But he puts together a fair amount for himself when the case hits the news. He drives out to the spot where they were last seen and stands there for a long time, like maybe he’ll see something everybody else missed. It’s nothing but trees and rocks and an empty stretch of road.

He learns the names of the others from the newspaper articles. Darryl and Grant. Henry, Lark, and Sparrow. Ron and Terry Jr. He learns the names of the ones left behind: Carol, Mercedes, Samantha. 

He looks up Carol Wilson’s number once. He sits there with his phone in his hand for a long time, but never calls. He doesn’t really know what he wants to say, or how he’d start. _You don’t know who I am, but…_

And then what? I know your entire family disappeared and your life got ripped apart, but listen, I’d been seeing this guy for a few months, and things were going really well, and it seemed like it could have been something really special if we’d gotten more time, and then we didn’t? No. He doesn’t get to impose on their grief. They have each other. They don’t need him.

Eventually you can learn to live with anything, and so he does. The ache of not knowing, the wondering about what might have been. Connor leaves for college that fall. The apartment next door gets cleared out and rented to somebody else. Robin decides to move to Boulder for a different job. The apartment in LA was too big for him by himself, anyway.

He still thinks about them a lot, as time goes on. Nick would be 14 this year, 15, 16. A young adult now, in college himself maybe. Starting a family. He remembers a concert he went to once, when he hears Christmas music in the shops every year. He doesn’t really talk about it with anyone except Connor (who was badly shaken by the whole thing) and after a while there’s nothing new for them to say about it. So he doesn’t really talk about it with anyone at all. 

(Ten years after that summer, three women go missing together in California. Three women whose names he knew, but who he never spoke to. The Colorado papers don’t report on the case, so he never reads about this second disappearance.)

He learns to blur the timeline a bit when someone asks about how long it took him to get back out there after his divorce. He tries the truth once or twice and finds that he hates the questions, the morbid curiosity, the prying for details that he doesn’t have and desperately wishes he did. 

So he sort of puts that whole strange, amazing, terrible summer into a box on a shelf somewhere in his mind, and lets it collect dust. Keeps living. Finds other things, other people that make him happy. But sometimes, even many years later, a certain sound or smell or feeling will stop him in his tracks and he knows he’ll be lying awake for hours that night, puzzling over a mystery he’ll never solve, thinking about one of the last exchanges they ever had.

_“Look, I gotta bounce, but I’ll see you when I get back.”_

_“Of course you will. I’m not going anywhere.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I were more on the ball, I would have called this "Our Last Summer," but names stick and it's too late now.


	2. Chrysanthemums (Glenn)

When he was drunk and maudlin, Bill Close had a phrase he used to explain why he’d never become a star: _timing is everything._

If he hadn’t done a certain audition right before lunch, when people were hungry and distracted. 

If he’d been playing the night the agent was in the bar, instead of at home babysitting. 

If he’d been five minutes earlier here, two hours later there, a few seconds in either direction, he’d have the life he was actually supposed to have. 

Bad timing. Good timing. Didn’t quite pull off the timing. Timing is everything. 

Glenn buys all that as a kid, but he eventually realizes that Bill only had it half right. It’s not just the bad stuff that comes down to being in the right place at the right moment. Sometimes, everything aligns to give you much more than you deserve. 

***

It’s not exactly a fairytale love story. They literally meet in a dumpster. 

It’s been almost a year since he told his parents to go shove their advice and their money up their respective asses, three months since the semester ended and he lost access to the dorm room and meal plan, a week since he ran out of cash, and at least 24 hours since he ate anything. Couch-surfing is keeping a roof over his head, and his friends are generous with food and booze and weed when they have any to spare, but that only goes so far. One year of college courses under his belt, no idea how to make a resume, no work history even if he did, no permanent address. The job offers aren’t exactly flooding in.

But to hell with it, Glenn Close isn’t gonna just lay down and die. He’s already cased a bakery a few blocks away and he knows they usually throw out the stuff too stale to sell around 11 p.m. He’d hoped not to have to use that info, but whatever. Someday this will make a great anecdote for his episode of _Behind The Music._

Glenn hovers across the street until he sees a silhouetted figure toss a bag into the dumpster in the alley, then casually strolls over once the figure goes back inside. The sides of the dumpster are taller and have fewer handholds than he’d pictured, but he drags over some pallets and manages to climb in. It’s half empty and the bag has landed right on top, safe from the nasty trash juices that are soaking the cuffs of his jeans. 

The first thing he sees when he tears the bag open is a plain bagel, and the first bite he takes is so good that he almost passes out. He’s so busy wolfing it down that he doesn’t notice the approaching steps from outside until another bag of trash flies over the top of the dumpster and bounces off his head. 

“Watch it,” he says reflexively. Then he freezes, not even chewing as he strains to listen for movement outside. Nothing. Maybe they just tossed the bag and walked back inside. He might get away with this. 

“Yo, Templeton,” a voice says from outside the dumpster. “You gonna quit pretending you’re not in there, or should I close the lid?” 

Glenn considers his options for a moment, but now that he comes to think of it… “Yeah, I’m realizing I don’t have anything to stand on in here. Little help?”

That’s the first time he hears her laugh. Even knowing he was the butt of the joke, he wants to hear it again. He gets his chance seconds later, when her head pops above the wall of the dumpster.

“Would you look at that? Somebody threw away a perfectly good dumbass.” Then that laugh rings out for the second time

Even his innate panache can’t overcome being hungry, chest-high in trash bags, and covered with flour. He’s humbled, and she’s amused, and that somehow turns into a connection that surprises both of them with how deep it gets and how fast. 

If Glenn meets her at any other moment than that, he blows it by trying to be cool and charming. He lucked out. It’s perfect timing.

Morgan’s too good for him on any level you can name. Too cool for him, too smart, too tough, too beautiful. A better musician than him, both with the actual music and the business side. She’s the one who teaches him how to scrounge and hustle, how to read a contract’s fine print and argue with a booking agent who doesn’t want to pay up. Sometimes it feels like every other living soul on earth is elbow-to-elbow with them, fighting for the same scraps that they are, but it’s clear that Morgan’s the one in a million who’s going to make it. And he’s along for the ride, feeling like the luckiest son of a bitch alive every single damn day. 

***

Seven years hearing her laugh every day. Seven years getting to be the one who makes her laugh, sometimes even on purpose. 

“I think we should get married,” he says one day, and she laughs in his face. 

“You still think it’s more legit if the government knows about it, huh?” But she softens, because she knows what he’s actually trying to say, because of course she does. “I get it, baby. This is the real deal. In sickness and health, for better or for worse, and so forth. I’m not signing any paperwork, but you know we throw a good party. Let’s just do the fun parts. You down?”

It’s a very good party, and afterward she calls him “my husband” and they make plans to get rings. Later, if she’s tipsy and feels like teasing him, she calls him “my _first_ husband,” and she laughs. Then she squeezes his face in her hands and gives him a kiss to make sure he understands that she’s only joking. He always knows she’s joking. He always lets her kiss him anyway. 

***

Morgan spends a few days thinking she’s got food poisoning before realizing a stowaway has outwitted their precautions. Glenn’s always counted that as very good timing by Nicholas - if that tricky little bastard shows up any earlier than he does, there’s no way Glenn even considers becoming a parent. But once they decide to go for it, it’s more fun than they’d have ever imagined. They build a lot of castles in the air together while they’re waiting to meet Nick. Glenn says he wants enough kids for a Partridge Family style band, and Morgan agrees as long as nobody plays the tambourine. 

They discuss it endlessly, but finally decide a percussionist is the first priority. The closer the due date gets, the more it seems like their new bandmate agrees. Morgan grabs Glenn’s hand and puts it on her belly so he can feel the urgent kicks. “Check out this sick drum solo.” 

Nick inherits his parents’ knack for knowing how to make an entrance. He’s so fashionably late that Morgan decides they should just party without him. It’s like ditching the friend who’s taking too long to get ready, except for the part where they can’t actually leave him behind. She and Glenn hit up their favorite venue that very night. The music thumps through their bodies like a pulse. The energy of the crowd makes them forget how long they’ve been waiting. And if anybody has any concerns about seeing a ridiculously pregnant woman dancing her heart out until her hair sticks to her face with sweat, they’re smart enough to keep their mouths shut. 

Fear of missing out is apparently hardwired, and Nick graciously deigns to join them a few days later. Everything changes. Three a.m. feels a lot different when you know you’ll be awake again at 4:30, and 5, and probably 7, and maybe 8 for good measure, and… 

“This new guy can’t hang,” Morgan mutters. She’s standing beside the bed, Nick tucked against her shoulder, patting his back and swaying. Glenn’s sitting up in bed, trying to stay awake out of solidarity, losing the battle. 

“New guy is a lightweight,” he says. “And he’s pretty nasty. That dude does not know what a toilet is for.”

“Come on, man, get it together,” Morgan says softly to the fussing figure in her arms. “We can’t take you anywhere.” Baby Nick finally burps and spits up a little onto Morgan’s shirt. A few additional angry hiccups are all he can manage before he falls asleep. 

“Did you hear that?” Morgan murmurs as she lowers him into the crib. “He said he was gonna fight me. Slow your roll, new guy, you aren’t ready for this heat.” 

She collapses back onto the bed next to Glenn. “I’m bluffing. He’s kicking my ass.”

“Me too,” Glenn says, “but at least we outnumber him.”

***

Not long after Nick’s second birthday, Morgan notices that she’s a couple of days late. It’s not a big deal, it usually doesn’t mean anything. Glenn makes a joke about the Close Family Quartet, and Morgan says she’ll grab a test when she gets groceries that weekend. But whether their lead guitarist was about to debut or still waiting in the wings, she made an amateur mistake and left things a little too late. The band broke up first. That’s show business for you. 

People always want to know what happened. Glenn never gets into details. They must make up their own pictures in their head: a rain-slick curve taken too fast, a semi truck jack-knifing across the highway. It makes more sense for something like that to happen when you already know you’re in danger. 

It’s the middle of the day. He’s going maybe five over the speed limit, keeping pace with traffic. He’s not high or drunk or tired or even distracted. They’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time. A dog runs into the road, someone swerves to miss it, someone else tries to get out of their way. Barely a fender-bender, except that their car gets just enough of a push to end up in the intersection. 

Early on, he thinks a lot about how a few seconds here and there could change things. 

The dog runs into the street a little later, and then the oncoming traffic isn't trying to beat a yellow light. 

The dog runs into the street a little earlier, and they drive home with a scraped bumper. 

But that’s Bill’s half-assed way of thinking about it, and Glenn knows better. It’s true, it could have been different. It could have been much worse. 

He drives a split second slower, and the other car meets theirs with a direct hit, crumpling the back seat as well as the front with far more force than Nick’s car seat can deflect. 

He drives a split second faster, and the clipped bumper spins them into the next lane, and he never makes it to the hospital at all, and Nick doesn’t have anybody left.

Glenn knows now what his dad was talking about in those grumbling laments. It’s like trying to put together two tracks that are just slightly out of sync. Where do you snip out a piece to make things fit right again? What if you’re already balanced on that tipping point with the fewest misfortunes and the most lucky breaks? What happens if you start messing with that?

He can’t second-guess. It happened the way it happened, and he’s still here, and Nick’s still here, so he still has a job to do. He’s going to be there for Nick the whole way, along for the ride, feeling like the luckiest son of a bitch alive because he gets to be here at all. It could have gone another way. Timing is everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was written before we realized that wrightiverse nick should be trans, but i don't love the idea of going back and rewriting it just to have glenn and morgan unknowingly misgendering lil baby nick, so screw it.


	3. Linger (Penny)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh, to be gay and unhinged. in a lighthouse? yeah, in a lighthouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We told you how Glenn and Robin met, we told you how Morgan and Glenn met... this is how Penny and Robin met. 
> 
> You know, those dndads characters... Penny and Robin... uh.
> 
> Warnings: Contains drug use and light... not exactly a hostile sort of biphobia but let's say "era-consistent obliviousness to the shades of the rainbow outside gay and straight."

_ **1994** _

This party is too loud and too crowded for Penny. As soon as she and her friend arrived, Julie spotted the dirtbag she’s interested in, and Penny’s been ditched. There are too many unfamiliar faces here, too, and it’s not just because of the freshmen that came in after she graduated. This is not her honor society crowd. This isn’t even really a college crowd. Someone is blatantly laying out lines on the coffee table, and earlier she saw someone get hustled past with a bleeding face after a fight broke out. She’d be out of here already, but her friend is also her ride, and Penny’s not excited about trying to get a cab in this neighborhood. 

Sweat is prickling on Penny’s scalp as she pushes through the forest of people in the living room. There’s a musty funk from too many drunk bodies, and she’s craving air. Finding her friend can wait until she’s caught her breath. She shoves past some football-player sized guys and slips out onto the balcony. 

Penny feels better as soon as she slides the door closed on the party noise and feels the cool night air hits her skin. The balcony’s other occupant looks over as she closes the door behind her. He gives her a nod, cigarette smoldering between his lips, and looks back out toward the street. It’s a welcome relief to see somebody she recognizes, even if they don’t know each other well. 

The streets are wet from the recent rain. Two drunk girls in too-tall heels stumble down the sidewalk, using each other for support. Penny leans on the railing next to the kid, both shamelessly watching as the girls weave their way across the street. 

“It’s cobblestones once they get to the corner,” he mutters quietly, almost to himself. “I don’t like their odds.”

Penny lets out a surprised laugh.

“Cute hair,” he adds. 

She must look surprised. 

“The new bangs,” he adds. “I like them.”

“I wasn’t sure you remembered me,” she says. 

“Of course I remember you,” he says, and the smile he turns her way is genuine. “The woman who saved me from flunking out. Penelope, uh… Song.”

“Long,” she corrects him. “But not bad. And just Penny is fine, I’m not your TA anymore.”

“Okay,” he says thoughtfully. “Penny. Lucky Penny Long.” He slouches against the railing. “Does this mean you’re not going to call me Mr. Wright anymore? I liked that. It felt like a secret identity.”

Penny laughs. “It’s a law school thing, Professor Gardner insisted.”

“Ah, I see.”

He doesn’t offer his first name, but of course she remembers Robin. Two kinds of students came to office hours: the ones who wanted to turn an A into an A+, and the ones who wanted to turn a fail into a pass. Robin was definitely in the latter category, although he lasted longer than students from that group usually did. Through the whole year, actually, and with a passing grade by the skin of his teeth. 

Robin had taken up more of her brain than one student should, but he just refused to stay in one lane. They’d get two or three weeks in a row where he’d be nailing the material, even cautiously helping other students. Then some switch would flip and he’d disappear, or show up too amped on something to stay in his chair, or simply terminally hungover. And a week or two later, just as he was on the brink of failing the class, he’d pull out of the tailspin and start turning in assignments good enough to balance out the zeroes he’d racked up while he was gone. Penny couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the kid. He was bright, and he was trying, and he was clearly deeply frustrated by the cycle he was in. Still, a TA doesn’t get involved in a student’s personal life. Even if she’s overheard some rumors that make it sound like a pretty interesting one.

He’s still gazing out at the street, although the drunk girls have vanished from sight. “What brings you to this party, Penny? Doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“It’s not,” she admits. “My friend was just trying to get laid, it turns out. But she’s my ride, so…”

“That’s a shame,” Robin says, and seems to mean it. “I’m too fucked up to drive, but find me in a couple hours if you’re still around, I can give you a ride home.” 

“I… thanks. We’ll see.” 

She finds herself watching Robin with more interest than before. Now that she’s looking for it, she can see that there’s a tension in his jaw, a shakiness in his hands as he fumblingly stubs out his cigarette. He has big hands, long fingers, nails bitten to the quick. He’s underfed for his frame, and it makes him look younger, like a puppy that hasn’t grown into its paws yet. 

“Are you okay?” she asks abruptly. He looks at her questioningly. She adds, “Just… in general?”

“Oh, y’know,” he says philosophically. “One step forward, two steps back,” 

“I think it’s supposed to be the other way around,” Penny volunteers. 

“And yet.” He gestures to himself, as though to say,  _ you see what I have to work with. _

Penny’s morbid fascination overrules her manners. “Are you still in school? Can you even graduate at this point? 

“You’re asking the smart questions,” Robin says vaguely. “Maybe I should just drop out now. Go full-time at the bar, save some money, figure out my next move.” 

He starts digging out another cigarette from the pack. “Or go hike the Appalachian Trail for a couple months. Just be alone with my thoughts, walking in the mountains.” 

Fortunately, Robin’s too enchanted by this vision to notice Penny’s skepticism. She’s sizing up this long-legged scarecrow in his too-tight tank top and artfully ripped jeans. The picture of him stumbling over the crest of a mountaintop, wheezing, wreathed in a cloud of smoke and with pupils like saucers, is memorable. “And after that?” she asks politely.

Robin doesn’t have an answer right away. The wind’s shifting, and he crosses to her side of the balcony so she’s not downwind of his smoke. “I have some cousins that live on the Cape. They make bank every summer during tourist season, and just live off that money the rest of the time.” 

He shrugs. “Or maybe that’s too much temptation for me. I could work on a fishing boat. Grow a beard, get all weatherbeaten. Eat seafood every night that I caught myself."

“Cooked by your adoring housewife?” Penny asks dubiously. 

“Not at all,” Robin says. He flashes her a smile, which she instinctively returns. He does have a sweet smile. “This is the nineties, Penelope. I’ll do the cooking. You’ll be tired after your long day at work."

“Oh, I’m in this fantasy now?” Penny laughs. “That was fast.” 

“Sure,” he says. “You work at your fancy downtown firm all week, then on Fridays you take the ferry over. By the time you get to our humble home, dinner is on the table. I’ll bake bread and make a nice chowder.” 

He broadens his accent on the last few words to make her smile. She hadn’t put together that Robin was local, but it makes perfect sense. Townie at the rich kids’ school, gay kid at the Catholic school. No wonder he’s such a mess.

He’s painting a nice picture though, and she’s surprised at how touched she is that he included her in it. Maybe it’s not that surprising, really. She’s been lonely out here. Tonight only confirmed her growing suspicion that she fundamentally doesn’t like her classmates all that much. They’re friends of convenience, at best. They favor the kind of conversation where they’re using her as a free therapist. Robin, though, is just... playing. It’s sweet. She hasn’t gotten to play for a long while. 

“The humble home in this plan, it’s a little whitewashed cottage? On the shore?” she asks. 

“Naturally. Oh, or how about a lighthouse?” he asks, his eyes widening. “Do you want to live in a lighthouse?” 

She laughs. “Who wouldn’t?” 

The balcony door slides open suddenly, blasting their chilly little retreat with hot air and noise. Julie stumbles out to join them, followed by her beloved dirtbag. She and Carter both look surprised to see Penny there. 

“You found me,” Penny says with relief. “Can we go?”

“Actually...” Julie begins. 

Carter cuts her off, speaking to Robin instead. “Hey. You holding?”

Robin gives Carter a quick once-over, makes some sort of mental calculation, and nods. Carter jerks his head toward the other end of the balcony and the two men step away from Penny and Julie. 

“We just got here an hour ago,” Julie says. “Can’t you get a taxi?” 

“Wandering around this neighborhood by myself?” Penny objects. “Spending all my fun money on the fare?”

“Jesus, Penny, lighten up. Have a drink. Do a bump.” Julie looks past Penny to where the guys are conferring in low tones. “Get laid?”

“Definitely not,” Penny snaps. God, she can’t even talk to a guy without Julie trying to set her up. Over Julie’s shoulder, she sees Robin deftly tucking a couple of crumpled twenties into his back pocket. 

“All set,” Carter says. “C’mon, Jules.” Julie gives Penny an apologetic half-shrug before following him back into the apartment, disappearing as fast as she’d appeared. 

Penny watches them go, helpless and frustrated. So much for escaping this party anytime soon. She can’t bring herself to go back inside, but she can’t pick up where they left off, either. She’d actually been having fun, playing along with Robin’s domestic fantasy. For a minute, she’d forgotten that she was stranded and shivering outside in the wet night air of this nasty town. She’d forgotten how far behind she’s going to be from taking just this one night off from studying. She’d forgotten that Robin’s not actually her friend, just a guy who’s in chemical love with the world right now and full of grandiose plans. That must have been what tricked her into thinking they were making a connection. 

She feels like a fool. She should have stayed home. The best-case scenario for the rest of her night is that she goes back to her cold little apartment and gets a couple of hours of reading in before she goes to bed. It remains to be seen if she can actually pull that off. 

Robin finally breaks the silence. “So,” he says. “ _ Definitely not _ , huh?”

Penny didn’t realize he’d overheard that, and now she’s got embarrassment to cope with on top of all the other miseries weighing her down. “It’s nothing personal, I just… aren’t you…”

There’s an awkward pause. 

“No,” Robin finally says. “But I certainly understand why you thought so.” 

“So all that before,” she says, her heart sinking. “Was that just your strange way of trying to get me into bed?” 

“Oh, not at all,” Robin says, and he’s so matter-of-fact about it that she actually believes him. “Just daydreaming. Sometimes it’s nicer to be somewhere else for a while.” 

“I can appreciate that,” Penny says. 

He gives her a sidelong look. “If you felt like slumming it for the night, I certainly wouldn’t say no.” 

Penny shakes her head sadly. “I just want to go home.”

Robin nods. “All right, come on. Let’s walk up to the corner and get you a cab.” 

He crushes the rest of his cigarette under his shoe and leads the way back into the party. She sticks close behind him, slipping through the crowds in his wake. It’s quiet once they get outside. Neither of them say anything, and nobody on the street bothers them. Penny notices that for once, she doesn’t have to slow down her strides while she’s walking. It’s nice.

It only takes a minute for Robin to scan the late-night traffic and spot a cab. He steps right into the street - dear God, she still can’t handle how everyone jaywalks here - and flags it down for her. He has a brief conference with the driver before waving Penny over, then jogs to the back of the vehicle so he can open the door for her. 

She hesitates before getting in. “Did he say how much it would cost to get to Cambridge?” she asks. 

“I took care of it,” Robin says. “Save your fun money, Lucky Penny.” He digs through his pockets, turning out all manner of detritus before he finds a scrap of paper and a golf pencil. “I’m giving you my number. Just leave a message on the answering machine, let me know you got home okay. "

“Robin, I’m…” She doesn’t know how else to put it. “I’m not interested.”

“In dating? That’s fine,” he says. “But I hope you’re not going to stand me up on the whole lighthouse thing.” 

It catches her off guard and she laughs. “I should go,” she says, taking the paper from him. “But sure.” 

As she gets into the cab, she adds, “You get home safe, too.” 

He’s already closing the car door when she speaks, so perhaps it’s natural that he doesn’t respond, or perhaps he’s not willing to make any promises he can’t keep. He just gives a wave as the cab pulls away from the curb, and as they drive away, she sees him stick his hands in his pockets and walk back in the direction of the party. 


	4. Hold On (Glenn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just cuz we didn't see it doesn't mean it didn't happen
> 
> (a conversation between nick and glenn in the van, post-Ravenloft)

Glenn settles in the van with Nick, who’s still holding all his tension in his arms folded across his chest. His knee is bouncing, and he’s trying desperately not to make eye contact with Glenn by staring at the center console. This won’t do at all. He should’ve shot Henry’s stupid bird dad when he got the chance. With a glance around the car to check if everyone’s wrapped up in their own conversations, he gently nudges Nick with his elbow. Nick looks, Glenn quirks an eyebrow, and he uncrosses his arms with a soft sigh.

“Your dad’s an asshole,” Nick mumbles, startling a surprised laugh from Glenn.

“You’re telling me.” Glenn worries his bottom lip between his teeth, calculates the way this conversation should go. For too long he’s tried to master the Distract-and-Laugh. Which usually proves enough, but not when your assumed-dead father kidnaps your son and holds him captive for a few weeks. What does he even say? Can he just ask Nick what happened? Glenn goes for what he knows and slings an arm around Nick’s shoulders, to which Nick tenses for a moment before going with it and slumping into Glenn’s side.

“That bad, huh?”

Nick picks at his nails, the remains of anything Nick had painted on before the tournament (to flex on the other kids, obviously) long gone. “I mean, it wasn’t… they didn’t hurt us physically or anything. Willy’s just an emotionally abusive creep, Barry was just… a weird old hippie, so exactly what you’d expect from him. But… Bill didn’t speak to me once.”

Of course that sack of shit didn’t. Glenn was pretty sure Bill didn’t even remember his son’s name, let alone his grandson’s. All this talk about being able to do Glenn’s job better than he has, which he’s sure the kids weren’t immune to— Nick must feel Glenn’s arm tense around his shoulders, because he drums on Glenn’s thigh to draw his attention again.

“You’re a great dad, and you know I’m not a snitch,” Nick starts, with a glance around at the other kids, “but I think they all kind of lost hope in there. So it wears on you. And—as soon as I saw that _stupid_ drone that you always wanted—"

“DJI Phantom,” Glenn says under his breath.

Nick continues. “—I knew you had finally come to get us. God, it felt so good to pull the ‘I told you so’ on them.”

Despite the joke Nick’s trying to make, he’s obviously trying to stifle tears, and Glenn tugs him closer to his side, Nick moving and curling into it. Glenn doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen Nick like this, and the thought makes Glenn’s blood boil. _No one_ gets to make his kid cry.

“We got sidetracked a lot. I’m so sorry it took us so long,” Glenn swallows thickly, blinking at the back of the seat, “I… can’t imagine what you’ve gone through. You must’ve been terrified.”

“I missed you,” Nick mumbles, scrubs at his eyes with a fist too hard, “and I ran out of stupid Wright stories to tell and—and I tried to stay positive, I knew you were trying to save us because the others said so, and Grant told me he saw you go down in For Knights and I got so _scared—"_

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Glenn sighs, and starts rubbing Nick’s shoulder, “We’re all okay. You’re the strongest little punk I know, alright? And you’re gonna help us get revenge on those jerks.”

Nick sniffs and wipes his eyes again. “All those knife lessons’ll finally come in handy.”

Glenn smiles and presses a kiss to the top of Nick’s head. “Damn right.”

Maybe later he can tell Nick what’s been going on with him and the dads, somehow. Maybe some of the things are better left in his own head. He doesn’t even know how to broach the topic of the Morgan deal with _himself_ , let alone Nick. 

“You _ran out_ of stories about Connor and Robin?” Glenn says after a brief silence, and Nick laughs, loud enough to make Henry glance back, worried.

“I pulled out all the stops, I’m telling you.”

“The time Connor ran away at eight and his parents found him at the top of a tree?”

“Because he wanted to see the firetrucks, yeah. Lark said that he’s done it a bunch. I even texted Connor to see if there were any I didn’t know. He's just been sending me updates about his weekend, it's nice. Robin thinks you're on mushrooms, by the way.”

Crap. Glenn really needs to call Robin when they’re out of the car. Something in his chest, after what felt like ages of constant fear and stress, flutters happily when he thinks about Nick using the Wrights for emotional support while he was stuck there. Like a bedtime story. Glenn can’t lie and say he hasn’t thought about Robin, more than he’d like to admit. 

“I’m proud of you, kiddo,” Glenn mutters, and Nick reaches up to shove Glenn’s head away with a laugh.

“You sound like Robin,” Nick chuckles, but when Glenn catches his eye, his smile is genuine.


	5. Beautiful Day (Penny)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since people enjoy the Wright prequel stuff, have a snippet from young family days.

**2001**

Penny’s gotten home far too late, again, but partner track is all about showing your willingness to put in the extra hours. Robin’s internship barely covers Connor’s daycare bill, and even if he gets the position this is supposedly preparing him for, it won’t be much better. So they’re going to sink or swim on her earning power, and that means making some really tough tradeoffs.

Penny closes the door quietly behind her and heads straight to the bedroom. She trades her work clothes for a soft tank top and sleep shorts, wipes off her makeup, and twists her hair into a quick braid. Contacts go into their solution for the night, jewelry into the bowl. There. Now she can walk out there as PJ and Mama, not a very junior attorney who’s been on her last nerve for about a year straight. 

When she walks softly in to check on Connor, she finds Robin as well, asleep on the loveseat with a half-folded basket of laundry next to him. Her boys are wiped out. 

She checks on Connor first in the crib, his little fists relaxed for once and his unfairly thick eyelashes resting peacefully on his chubby cheeks. They got him those rocket ship pajamas only a couple of months ago, and they’re already getting too short for his arms and legs. Penny straightens out his blanket so his feet are covered again and smooths his hair away from his face. All the various far-flung genes he had to work with, and the kid had apparently decided he wanted her dad’s hair. They can’t leave the house without random strangers coming up to admire the soft cloud of curls. Maybe one of these days they’ll cut it, but not until he’s old enough to ask.

Penny bends down to kiss Robin on the forehead and wake him. Some part of her still expects to catch the whiff of cigarette smoke clinging to his hair and clothes, but he’s made it almost two years - this might be the quitting attempt that sticks. It helps that he’s working in an office now, not a smoky bar with all kinds of temptations close to hand. He blinks up at her, smiles, and tips his head back so she can kiss him again on the lips before she straightens up again. 

Robin unfolds himself from the couch and follows her out into the hallway, stretching as he walks. His shirt rides up and shows a hint of tummy, which Penny notes fondly. Her husband’s finally filling out a little bit, living up to the promise of that oversized frame now that he’s actually eating regular meals. 

“Are you hungry?” Robin asks quietly, unconsciously picking up on her train of thought as he so often does. “There’s a plate in the fridge.” 

“Maybe later,” she murmurs. “Can you rub my feet?”

“Sure,” he says with a yawn. “We had a big day though, don’t let me forget to tell you.”

“Were there words?” Penny asks as they settle on the bed. 

“Almost,” Robin says. She throws her feet into his lap and he gets to work, his thumbs pressing hard into the arch of her foot. Penny’s not willing to give up the style and intimidation factor of her high heels, but she definitely pays for it. 

“What’s  _ almost?”  _ she asks. “More ma-ma-ma stuff?”

Robin shakes his head. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I think he’s trying to say Connor.”

She gives him a dubious glance. “Are you sure it’s not ‘kitty’?”

Robin chews on his lip for a second, considering. “It could be kitty, I don’t know. Next time he does it, you tell me what you hear.”

Penny sighs. The kid was an early walker, but he’s taking his time talking. Every time she gets one of these after-bedtime updates, she’s torn. On the one hand, he’s still not talking. On the other hand, it means she didn’t miss hearing his first word. 

Robin picks up on her shift in mood and looks up at her with sympathy in his eyes. “It’s okay. It’s almost the weekend, anyway.”

Penny smiles sadly and looks down. She doesn’t know how to tell him that she already agreed to come in for a few hours on Saturday morning. His hands stop moving and she can tell that he’s figured it out. It’s his turn to sigh, but he gets back to work. 

“I’ll try to leave at lunch,” she offers. 

“If you can,” he says quietly. 

That Saturday morning, Penny is in the office by seven a.m., but it means she’s home before lunch. In celebration, they pack up a picnic and take a walk to the park. It’s a fickle April, and there’s still dirty snow piled up in the corners of parking lots, but the sun is shining today and they’ve bundled Connor up in plenty of layers. They only get so many days between the relentless snow and the sweltering summer heat, they can’t afford to be too picky.

The kid dozes off in his stroller on the walk, but as soon as they put him down on the picnic blanket, he takes off at a sprint toward the duck pond. Both Penny and Robin had been preoccupied with setting out food, so those little legs get a decent head start before Robin’s up and after him. When Robin returns, carrying Connor under his arm like a football, Penny discovers that things have worked out perfectly: she’s here for Connor’s first word, his second word,  _ and _ his first sentence. Because in perfect counterpoint to Robin’s muttering of “Connor,  _ no _ ,” she hears her son declaring loudly, firmly, and clearly: “Connor  _ yes _ .”


	6. Wherever You Are (Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randomly generated prompt: saying "I love you" in a blissful sigh as you fall asleep, with Connor and Nick.

As per usual, when it’s a weekend that Nick’s escaped to Connor’s college, about an hour is spent setting up a comfortable fort-like area for the two of them to hang out. The set-up is as follows: the air mattress that lives under Connor’s bed, a mess of blankets, and a pillow that Nick so graciously brings from home. Because Connor’s some kind of psychopath who only sleeps with one. They have to have a talk about that.

The TV sits on top of the roommate’s dresser between their two beds, so the floor is arranged so the two of them can sit on the ground and play games. No back support, but either one of them will blame that on their poor gaming performance, so it’s not all bad. Once the set-up is complete (“The bachelor pad,” Connor declares, which makes Nick wrinkle his nose in disgust) with snacks and no real reason to get up except to go to the bathroom, they tuck into a  _ very  _ competitive game of Mario Kart.

If it were Nick’s choice, they’d go well into the hours of the night, arguing over if the drivers  _ actually _ have any effect on the driving speed. But, apparently Connor and college have other ideas, because around midnight, Connor’s sighing and setting his controllers down.

“Woah, dude, come on, I was about to win,” Nick argues, stretching his leg out to nudge the controller back towards Connor’s hand with his foot.

“Sure you were,” Connor laughs, and pushes himself up off the ground using the top of Nick’s head for leverage. Nick makes an angry noise (that’s  _ not _ whining), and slaps Connor’s hand away when he goes for the classic hair tousle. “I’ve got an eight AM.”

“Skip it. Who the fuck has class on a Saturday?” Nick closes Mario Kart in order to check in on Connor’s Animal Crossing island, which he has pretty much assumed sole proprietorship over. When he first opened it, it was just a mess of dropped items and randomly placed homes. There was a custom designed weed dispensary, though, which Nick appreciated. The room with just a toilet left something to be desired. 

Connor, though, clicks the Switch off with a sigh. “Scientists, apparently. You can play with your phone, man, I’m serious.”

Nick stares angrily as Connor goes about his routine to get ready for bed. Connor pauses, hands at the top of his pants, and makes dead eye contact with Nick. Nick, as he always does, concedes first and looks away to busy himself with his phone, grumbling about how gross Connor is all the time. Connor just chuckles along.

As soon as the door closes behind Connor, a brilliant idea comes to Nick. He rushes changing out of his clothes and into pajamas, and clambers up into Connor’s bed. Tucks himself in nicely, like the grandma from Red Riding Hood, and bites his lip to keep from laughing. Connor comes back in, sets his toothbrush down, and stops when he sees Nick.

“Out.”

Nick grins.

“Nicholas Floyd, you’re not prepared for the wrath you have sought.”

Nick raises his eyebrows.

The ensuing fight isn’t so much of a fight as it is Connor attempting to grapple Nick. Nick’s learned to be quick when it came to squaring up against Connor. The dude spends his free time in a gym for all Nick’s concerned, so there’s no way to take him by force. Paeden taught him the ropes on how going limp actually  _ is  _ a viable strategy, but in this scenario, Connor gets his arms around Nick’s waist and dangles him, head down, over the air mattress.

“Drop me, coward,” Nick says, but Connor laughs and maneuvers Nick right-side up and sets him on his feet.

“I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I did.”

“Maybe,” Nick concedes, and he settles himself into the air mattress. Connor shakes his head as he goes to turn off the light, and very ungracefully launches himself back into his bed, landing with a combination thud-squeak.

“Is that always how you do that?”

Connor reaches a hand to swat vaguely at the air above Nick’s head. “Shut it, shortstack.”

Nick gets distracted with his phone, for a while. The comments on his latest Tik Tok are less than thrilling, but he still ends up scrolling through them regardless for any highlights. A question about Connor’s height reminds him.

“Hey,” Nick less-than-whispers, squinting up to try and see if Connor was still moving around. “Psst.”

Connor grumbles and flips around so his head is facing Nick. Shit. Definitely was asleep. Now he’s the asshole.

“What time’s your class done tomorrow?”

“Ten.”

“Okay. Sorry, dude.”

He can’t tell if Connor’s even looking at him in the dark, but he does hear Connor shift back around with a long sigh. “‘s alright. Love you.”

In a normal situation, Nick would probably give Connor shit for that. He almost certainly has, actually. It’s probably concerning to the outside person just how often the two of them wrestle each other.

Nick smiles at his phone, clicking the Connor comment and replying with ‘4 feet tall’. 

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awwww shit shrack in da house. i just love these boys a lot


	7. Knives Out (Glenn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: No explicit descriptions of injury and blood, but a character has gotten cut.
> 
> Just a tiny prompt drabble to share.

The ride back from Urgent Care is almost completely silent. Glenn’s just trying to hold his stupid bandaged-up hand in some way where he won’t hit it on anything if there’s a bump in the road. Robin has his hands at ten and two on the wheel, gripping far harder than is necessary or probably safe. At the stoplight, he finally releases his death grip on the wheel and frees one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t believe Nick survived this long with all his limbs,” Robin mutters darkly. “When we get home, they’re going. All the swords, the knives, the nunchucks, they’re gone.”

“Even my Kershaw brand everyday carry knife?” Glenn protests. 

Robin doesn’t answer, just shakes his head grimly. The light turns green and he begins driving again. 

“Seems to me like the problem wasn’t the katana,” Glenn says sulkily. “Seems to me like the problem was the dumbass who was watching a samurai movie and said ‘I don’t think they could actually do that move in real life.’”

“Sure showed me,” Robin says dryly. 

“Yeah,” Glenn mutters. He resettles himself in the passenger seat with a dramatic huff. “Anyway. My point is, you should think things through before you say them out loud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glenn, Robin, Ninja AU: “You should think things through before you say them out loud.”
> 
> (Made it into a Mall Ninja AU, of course.)


	8. Feel United (Connor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor said "is somebody gonna give this kid a brother" and didn't wait for an answer.

Connor knows something is up as soon as Nick sends a reaction to a picture he’s sent instead of responding with one of equal or lesser value. It’s practically a way to keep in touch with each other without having to have things to say all the time, where they try to exchange silly memes to check in and make sure they’re both good. Usually, if Nick has something to say, he’ll lead right into it after getting, or sending, a wake up picture. This time, Connor stares at the little thumbs up in dismay. 

Normally he'd wonder if he was overreacting to this, but his track record has never failed him. This is the first time it's happened since Connor's gone to school, though, so he has to plan a course of action. He has class and other things pretty much through three. He can make it home for four, and be barging into Nick's room guns blazing in no time. He doesn't love the two hours for Nick to wallow in whatever's going on, though, and he spends a good portion of his first class of the day brainstorming.

On his way between classes, Connor sends a Twitter thread about the top songs off every decade, and doesn't get an answer. No way the kid hasn't looked at it—its _ high school,  _ of course he's on his phone. Connor pulls up his conversation with Glenn.

**Connor:** _ need a favor, glem _

**Glenn:** _ aw shit what i do this time _

Connor scoffs to himself.

**Connor:** _ nick's in a mood, can you coordinate some strategic snacks for when he comes home _

**Glenn:** _ he tell u ? _

**Connor:** _ nah man, vibes _

He tucks his phone away as soon as he gets confirmation from Glenn that he's on it, and settles into his seat for his next class.

The last ten minutes of his last class of the day are dedicated to planning how his weekend is going to go. He has to drive back tonight or tomorrow morning early to get to his Friday and Saturday classes. Maybe he can convince Glenn to go to the gym with him in the morning, for the competition. If he comes home again Saturday after class, he should probably stay with his mom. Shit, he should call her. At least Connor can actually get his work done there. He’ll be too tempted to fuck off at Robin’s.

On his way to the van, he calls Penny. Penny usually can’t answer on the first go-round, since she’s always disgustingly busy, but she calls back once Connor is about halfway to the house.

“Everything good?” Penny asks, pausing for a moment. “Are you driving?”

“Had to check on Nick. You want company this weekend?”

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

Connor laughs. “Alright, so I’ll take that as a no.”

“No, Connor—” Penny sighs, and Connor knows she’s leaning back in her chair to physically distance herself from her paperwork. “I’d love to. Carol and I are skating on Sunday, if you want to come.”

“I’m always down for a Penny Pain performance.”

Penny chuckles on her end. “And Sylvia Wrath. Isn’t that a cute name?”

Connor raises his eyebrows. “Adorable. I’ll be home Saturday afternoon.”

Sometimes Connor is amazed that his driving record is as clean as it is. He’ll catch himself shouting along to a song, easily going fifteen over the speed limit at least, one of his hands stuck out the window as he goes. It’s Robin’s worst nightmare, since the man insists on having both hands on the wheel eighty percent of the time. Penny just death grips the handle, silently judging. He always did prefer taking driving lessons with her.

Once he pulls up and parks, Connor barely pauses as he blows through Glenn's apartment, trying to simultaneously connect his phone to the Bluetooth speaker and make his way toward the pantry from the emergency snacks. Glenn nods his head toward Nick's room—god he hopes Glenn actually tried to talk to Nick instead letting him sulk all alone the whole time. With the bag of Doritos between his teeth, Connor starts blasting “Move Your Feet”, and knocks twice on Nick's door before dancing inside.

Nick is half-hidden by his blankets, curled up facing the wall, now with his head lifted up to watch Connor. He's smiling a little bit but he's definitely been crying, and Connor offers out the bag as a peace offering, still bouncing along with the song. Nick doesn't move to take it, just shuffles around to sit more comfortably, knees tucked to his chest, mouth pressed into them. 

With a finger held up, Connor sets the speaker down. He spins around and, from the pocket of his hoodie, produces a can of soda to hold out as well. Nick laughs and, this time, reaches out to grab it, fidgeting with the tab as Connor turns down the volume and sets the speaker on his nightstand.

"Why're you here?" Nick asks, and Connor slumps down next to him.

"Knew I had some cheering up to do. The grind never stops." Connor lifts his arm and looks down at Nick—he's usually not sure how touchy Nick wants to be. On a regular day it's wrestling, even on a sad day it's a half-hearted tug of war at most. They only cuddle if Nick "gives up" after a fight and ends up close to Connor. Maybe it's something they'll never admit to.

Nick just tips himself over to land in Connor's side with a soft thump, and Connor rubs Nick's shoulder lightly. "Just one of those days, huh."

Nick nods and scrubs his nose with one of his sleeves. "'s fuckin' embarrassing."

“Nah, man, we all have worse days than others.”

“I’m not sure you even  _ do  _ have emotions,” Nick sighs. Connor knows he’s joking—his friends do it too. It’s become almost a running gag between him and most of the people he knows; he’s bad at handling other people’s emotions and doesn’t have any of his own to boot. It’s just that he’s more rational than some of the people he’s with, but it does gnaw at him sometimes, too.  _ Does  _ he have emotions? Vibing through life can only get you so far. Connor gives Nick a light squeeze.

“I can only cry during dog reuniting videos, yes,” Connor says solemnly, getting another quiet laugh out of Nick. “But I’m serious, you can’t expect everyone to be okay every single day. That’s asking a lot of someone. There are days where I think about shaving my head and living my life on the lam in the woods.”

Nick sits up to look at Connor, shocked. “But you love your hair.”

Connor smiles at him. “That’s why it’s so concerning. I just know, on days like that, I have to reach out to the people I love. Even if I don’t tell Dad why I came home, or my mom why I’ve just suddenly manifested in her home eating all of her fancy cheese.”

“Glenn’s getting better at it,” Nick admits, pulling at his sleeves to cover his hands. “I mean, it’s much better than it was before Faerun. Old habits, I guess. I didn’t mean to make you come all the way home for this.”

Nick looks a little guilty, so Connor reaches to grab the discarded chip bag to nudge it gently into Nick’s fidgeting hands. “That’s what you get when you don’t send a meme back.”

“I didn’t feel like hunting. Are you seriously going to come home if I forget to send a meme back again?”

“No, dude, I’m telling you. It’s the  _ way  _ you reacted to it.”

“I’m not gonna question it.” Nick sits up and out of Connor’s reach, moving to set the food Connor’s brought onto the pile of his nightstand. The music has shuffled onto a song that Connor can vaguely recognize as one of the ones Nick and his friends have played in his presence before—every year it gets harder to keep track of what they find funny. Nick sits back against his headboard and scrubs his hands over his face.

“Besides, my trip isn’t completely a waste. Do you want to sidearm my dad into a Nerf war when he’s home from work?”

Nick gives him a look that gives Connor the answer he needs. Connor grins and hops onto his feet.

“C’mon, let’s go debrief Glenn.”


	9. Chapter 9

***  
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